Do Not Be Alarmed
Do Not Be Alarmed – a Sermon for Sunday November 17, 2024
The readings today continue to paint a picture of what it means to be a true disciple. The book of Ruth could have been called “The Making of a servant of God” and Obed who is born at the end of today's reading bears the name “Servant of God”. Psalm 127 reminds us that “Unless the Lord builds the House, those who build it labour in vain, and the letter to the Hebrews echoes this theme telling us that God did not enter a sanctuary made by human hands and is always actively present in the lives of human beings.
Today’s Gospel continues the theme of “making all things new.” And I think it’s exactly what we need to hear these days when it looks as if so many things are breaking down and falling apart. Today’s Gospel overflows with good news. And yes, it’s difficult and challenging but it’s worth our attention and effort because it’s a Gospel about hope. It’s a Gospel about opportunities and possibilities. It’s a Gospel about finding meaning and new life. It’s a Gospel about your future and my future. And who among us doesn’t sometimes wonder, worry, or even become alarmed about our future and the future of the world?
I’ve come to realize that when I become alarmed about the future I’m not really focused on the unknown and a time yet to come. I’m really more focused on the known and the present time. I want to know if the temples I’ve built will withstand the test of time. Will the center hold? Will my relationships endure? Will my acquisitions and accomplishments continue to give identity? Will the systems I’ve created for my life, well being, and happiness remain intact? Are the foundations of my life stable and strong enough to last? Will my life matter? Can you relate to this?
Maybe that’s what is going on with the disciple who says to Jesus, “Look, Teacher, what large stones and what large buildings!” Maybe he’s missed the point and distracted himself from what really matters and is calling for attention. Because we all do that sometimes; we have clever ways of distracting ourselves from things that we find challenging. This was not the first time that the disciple was seeing the temple and he had in fact been there with Jesus at least twice before. So he’s not noticing the size of the stones, or indeed the temple itself for the first time.
There’s a disconnect between what he says and what has just happened. As we heard in last week's Gospel, Jesus and his disciples have just left the temple where they sat opposite the treasury watching the crowd put money into the treasury. Many rich people put in large sums but a poor widow put in one coin, all that she had. Jesus says to his disciples, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury.” With those words Jesus has cracked the mortar between the stones of power, wealth and prestige. A separation has begun but the first thing, the only thing, the disciple says is, “Wow! Look how big that building is.” They don’t get it. Maybe we don’t either.
I wonder if this disciple is trying to change the subject and distract himself from what Jesus has just said. Haven’t you done that? I have. We change the subject so we don’t have to deal with the vulnerable, painful, or broken parts of our lives. I wonder if he’s looking at the large stones and buildings so he doesn’t have to look at himself in light of the what Jesus says about the widow. I wonder if he’s feeling the large stones and buildings of his life beginning to shift and separate.
When have you felt that shift and separation? Sometimes the shift takes place in life changing events when nothing can ever be the same again. I felt that happening in a very acute way when my husband died. But I also feel a shift taking place when the values I claim for myself are not congruent with how I speak or live. It occurs in those times I look at what’s happening outside of me instead of what’s happening inside of me. It’s there whenever I refuse to see, acknowledge, and receive the widow and her way of life in my life. That separation separates me from God, you, and myself.
You know as well as I do that’s a difficult and uncomfortable place to be, and we’ve all been there. Jesus says it looks and sounds like war and rumors of war. Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom. There will be earthquakes and famines.
Every one of those is an image of separation: nation separated from nation, kingdom from kingdom, the earth from itself, the stomach from food. Even the widow is an image of separation. She’s separated from her husband and the life she once had. Those images describe not only what is happening around us but also within us. That’s the hard and challenging part of today’s Gospel. It’s showing and telling us something we don’t want to see, hear, or deal with. It’s too frightening, painful, and uncertain.
What if, however, they are not separations but an opening, a space, for something new to come to life?
Jesus is never more compassionate than he is during these times. He speaks with tenderness and reassurance. “Do not be alarmed.” “This must take place.” “This is but the beginning of the birth pangs.” It’s as if he saying, “Don’t worry. This is normal. You’re going to be ok. I’m with you” Take a look at your life today. What are the large stones and large buildings of your life that are being thrown down or need to be thrown down?
What if, in those times when it feels like our life is shifting and separating and everything is being thrown down, we would trust the Creator to do a new thing: in each one of us, in our beloved church and indeed in the world.